


It Won't Be Long (Till I Belong To You)

by revanmeetra87



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revanmeetra87/pseuds/revanmeetra87
Summary: After Belle retrieves Neal's scarf from Hook's ship, and Rumpelstiltskin nearly ends the Captain on the deck of the Jolly Roger, can Emma convince the stubborn pirate to end his pursuit of revenge? A season 2 canon divergence one shot, set during The Outsider, imagining what could have happened if Archie also came to Emma for help after he told Rumpelstiltskin to assist Belle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this quick little one shot was written for the CS storybook on tumblr...if you haven't checked it out yet NOW IS THE TIME TO DO SO! But it's been up for a couple weeks now I think, so I thought I'd throw my contribution on here as well.  
> I offered to do a season 2 story, since nobody else had selected it - seems I can't get away from S2 Hook! (kidding, I love him)

Hook watched the Crocodile disembark his ship, arm in arm with his new lover, all superior arrogance and vile sanctimony.

Face already swelling from the beating he'd just received from the Dark One's cane, Hook tried to catch his breath, and received a mouthful of blood in the process. For many long minutes, all he could do was stare into the cloudy grey sky, watching the world turn without him.

He'd been close. He'd been _so_ close to making that scrupulous librarian a witness to exactly the kind of man with whom she was involved.

The crocodile had been just a twitch away from killing Hook—and in doing so, effectively ending his chances of happiness with Belle forever – and yet, something had stopped him. Somehow, the odious creature's desire to please his paramour had overridden his urge to finish his foe.

_“_ _Why?”_ Hook wondered, but it mattered not. They had the scarf now, so he knew their next move: leaving town. Poor Baelfire. He had not been lying to Belle when he'd suggested the boy (if, indeed, he was still a child, or even still alive) would not be pleased to see that his father had tracked him into this realm. 

Hook knew he would have to make haste if he wanted to catch them, but he gave himself another few moments to recover. As he shifted uncomfortably against the deck, something in the pocket of his jacket nudged against him, and with delight he realized he still had Belle's weapon; the sleek, miniscule firearm was tucked away safely.

How  opportune  for him. _“The only proper thing for a gentleman to do would be to return it to her, aye?”_

 

 

Emma drove her bug to the harbor, grumbling to herself the whole time. She could be helping her mother and father look at new homes but _no_. She had to deal with this crap.

Of course 'this crap' came with the sheriff territory, but still...why couldn’t people just... _behave_ ? Was this life's way of ironically paying her back for her years of petty crime? 

Reaching down  to the vehicle's cup holder  with one hand,  Emma grabbed  the glass of ice water she'd brought from the house on  her the way out the door, and took a sip.  She had so much to think about.

Her parents wanting  to move to another house, Henry in turmoil over Regina's murder of Archie – which, as she'd discovered in the last five minutes, was not even true. But could she stop and comfort her son about it? No, she had to go deal with those idiots, Gold and Hook, at the harbor.

At last arriving at the docks, she pulled over the bug and got out, surveying the scene. Everything seemed normal; in fact, despite Archie's frantic claims, she couldn't even  _see_ a ship.

But then a newspaper page, which had been tumbling from a trash bin towards the piers, a heavy breeze carrying it  ever closer to the water, stopped in midair as if frozen.  H alt ed in its  flight towards the ocean,  its  edges  were  slightly fluttering as it was held aloft .

_“Almost as though it ran into something,”_ Emma thought.  Then, just over the wind, she heard it. A faint creaking, as of planks rubbing together...

“It's cloaked,” she said, amazed enough that she spoke aloud, “They actually cloaked it. Captain Kirk has nothing on this.”

Walking down the pier,  she awkwardly  kicked around the left side, knowing she must have looked like a complete fool. But her persistence paid off as at last she found purchase on the  invisible  gangplank, and cautiously began ascending.

After a few steps, the ship shimmered into view, and Emma paused  and drew her gun, looking around for some evidence of a fight.  But everything was still, and the only thing she heard was the wind whistling along the deck above her. 

“Hey!” she called. “Hello? Gold?”

Silence; then, a voice that was not the pawn shop owner’s quipped, “Shame; you've just missed him. It looks like you have me all to yourself.”

There was only one voice that could irritate her on that level. “Hook?” Emma  snapped ,  taking her gun off of safety and  stomping the rest of the way up the gangplank. “What have you done?”

“ Me?” came the innoc uous answer.

She was about to continue yelling at him, but when she caught sight of him, flat on his back on the deck, blood streaming down his face, her angry words fled from her mind. Approaching him, she  put her weapon back on safety and holstered it as she shook her head. “ So, Gold's gone, and you're down for the count.  Why am I not surprised? I'm just amazed he left you alive.”

“It was not for lack of want, Love,” Hook replied, and while he was grinning as though he found it all an amusing joke, she could see the pain behind the mask.

Crouching down,  Emma reached out to skim her fingers over his bruised face in assessment. At her touch, Hook drew a sharp, startled breath. Assuming she'd hurt him, she pulled back. “Sorry. Hold on, okay? I will be right back. I'm going to get something. And don't go anywhere; I still need to question you.”

 

 

Dazed, Hook  gazed after her as she  exited the  _Jolly_ . How was he going to follow the Dark One with Swan interfering? She was not responsive to his usual methods of distraction. Perhaps he could convince her he needed to rest and recoup on his ship. Maybe then, she'd leave  for good .

Closing his eyes, he let a  soft groan  escape. Now that  the frenzy brought upon him by the confrontation with Rumpelstiltskin was wearing off,  the previously numbed pain was overtaking him full force. Slowly, he sat up. 

Even that was torture. Huffing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, one of the few parts of his head that was not tender or aching. It was like the morning after imbibing too many a drink, only magnified exponentially. 

Boot steps echoed across the deck, and he opened his eyes to see that Swan had returned. There was something in her hands. Either she very quick on her feet, or his injuries were hindering even his sense of time.

“Swan, ask your questions and be on your way. I need to  tend to these cuts.” Hook attempted to sound impatient, but his voice was faint, even to his own ears.

“Shut up and sit still,” came the reply as she sat down beside him, long legs folding underneath her. Without warning,  something cold was pressed gently against his nose and mouth.

Automatically his head jerked back.  A nother wave of pain ripped through him, but he hardly noticed it. Was her goal to bloody smother him?

“Relax, will you? It's just the ice I drained from my drink. I wrapped it in a dust cloth from the glove compartment. It'll help with the swelling.”

Although his head was throbbing, he couldn’t help but tilt  it slightly as he looked at her. “Where did you get ice?” And why would she use it for something as frivolous as cooling a drink?

“From the freezer.  Oh, for the love of -W ould you  _hold still_ ?”

“Freezers...produce ice?” What an incredible notion. Simple, yet so useful.

“They can.”  He might have been imagining it, but he thought he caught a glimpse of mirth in those green eyes. Moving more slowly than before, Emma reached over and held the bag of ice against his face, then shook it lightly, indicating he should take it. 

Grasping the cloth, Hook watched her thoughtfully. How to ease her suspicions and send her on her way? “What else do freezers do?” he blurted out, slightly muffled by the fabric. Immediately his mind screamed at him. What kind of ludicrous, childish query was that?

Quizzically, clearly unsure whether he was being sardonic or not, Emma stared right back at him. “They keep things cold. To store food and stuff.”

“That would be a very useful invention,”  Hook told her, applying more pressure to his upper lip to stay the bleeding. “In my world, ice is a luxury. Sometimes we can preserve food in cellars during the winter.” 

“Great. You're a regular Laura Ingalls Wilder. But this is very off-topic.” Narrowing her eyes, Swan continued. “What exactly happened here?”

“I was here on my ship,” he answered as vaguely as possible, gesturing with his hook. “Minding my own business. The librarian came along—armed, mind you – and tried to steal something I had below decks. I suggested she return it and leave; she argued. Then, that coward of a Crocodile arrived and attacked me.” With a shrug, he added, “I don't know what else to say.”

Rolling her eyes skyward, Swan said, “Oh, I don’t know. How about the facts you left  out ?”

Dripping  innocent sweetness , Hook  inquired, “Such as?” 

Leaning forward, she finally exploded in frustration. “That 'thing' below deck you're referring to, for one! Archie! He went to Gold first, to get help for Belle, and then he came to me, telling me that you and Cora kidnapped him. You threatened him! What were you thinking? He had nothing to do with Gold, so don't give me your excuses.”

At this tirade, Hook was left with a loss as to what to say. Blinking a few times, he explained, “Actually, I was talking about a scarf.”

Clenching her hands into fists, Swan moved even closer, and he could see the potent anger written across her face. It was the closest she'd ever gotten to him without trying to extricate herself, and he was mesmerized in spite of her demeanor.

What passion this woman had buried inside the stalwart fortress of her heart, regardless of how reticent she acted! He couldn’t help but wonder what secrets were locked away in that hidden soul of hers, and what it would take to find out. Certainly most would not have the mettle to withstand her thorns.

“Hey, HEY!” Swan was practically shouting, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Why is your face all weird? Are you even listening?” The blows to his skull must have caused more damage than he'd guessed, because he thought he could detect a trace of concern edging the next words. “ _Can_ you hear me?”

Trying to look contrite, Hook made noises of accordance. “Of course. You were scolding me for guarding the man Cora kidnapped, I believe?”

Bracing himself for another eruption, Hook was intrigued when he heard Swan give nothing more than a small sigh. “Why do you do that?” she asked plainly.

Forcing a sly grin, he began, “I'm sure I don’t know what -”, but she interrupted him.

“ _That_. That's what I mean, right there. Do you think I don’t _know_ that you're deflecting? You figure that if you just keep talking, saying stupid and offensive things, I won't notice what you're really thinking, or what? Why do you do it?”

Hook was suddenly aggravated, though he couldn’t have articulated why. Moving the ice-filled cloth, he taunted, “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose for the same reasons you _refuse_ to talk when _you're_ deflecting.”

Drawing back, she gaped at him, eyes widening in displeased astonishment. _“Oh, my darling, you_ _'ve been transparent to me since we climbed that beanstalk_ _,”_ he thought. _“Why does this surprise you so?”_

Composing herself quickly, Swan tucked some blonde hair behind her ear and scowled ferociously, as if to frighten his words away. “You can't take anything seriously, can you?”

He laughed bitterly, which turned to coughing as he turned his head and spat out more blood. “There is only one thing I take seriously now,” he retorted. “And that is destroying the Dark One.”

“Yeah? Look at you now. That little confrontation didn’t end so well for you, did it?”

_“It almost did,”_ Hook thought, and his mind turned to the gun, still in his pocket. If only she would leave, he could go finish the job. “It doesn’t matter how this ends, as long as it ends _him_.”

“What if it ended with your death?” Swan asked, but Hook didn’t hear the question. He was thinking about the town's exit road, and how long it would take him to reach it.

“Look, okay, maybe this isn’t the nicest thing to say, but...it's been a really long time, hasn't it? Since... After all these years, why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

Oh, so she wanted to play that way, did she? Well, he was up to the challenge. “And how long has it been since you've been separated from _your_ lover? Exactly how many years? However, you're _clearly_ past all of that. Henceforth, I shall follow your sterling example.”

Flushing, Swan looked away. Good; he'd discomforted her. “All right, I get it. I'm sorry. But that still doesn’t give you the right to torment a meek little psychologist. Or...cricket. Whatever.”

He fell silent. Several moments ticked by as a gull passed overhead, screeching. Finally, Hook said, “She didn’t have anyone else to fight for her. Never. Her whole life.”

Swan met his glace again, and he saw the corners of her eyes beginning to sparkle with wetness; and, perhaps, the unfortunate understanding of a Lost Girl. With a self-reproaching shrug, he added, “This is all I can give her in death. So you want my reason? There it is.”

 

 

What, exactly, was Emma supposed to say to that? How could she reason with a man this dedicated? The guys she knew couldn’t commit for three weeks, never mind three centuries. “Look, I...Put your ice pack back on.”

Incredibly, he did so without comment, and they both sat there, even as the cloudy sky finally gave way to a mild drizzle. She knew she should be cuffing him and hauling him to the bug, but something was telling her to stay. _“_ _I must be going crazy.”_

“I thought my life was over, y'know,” Emma finally told him.

His eyebrows lifted sarcastically, wearily. “When was this? When the giant was coming after us?”

Drawing up her knees and resting her chin upon them, Emma gave a small shake of her head. “Nah, I’m talking ten, eleven years ago. I had just gotten out of jail and given up Henry for adoption. It was pretty much the lowest point of my life. I felt like I’d failed him, and I’d failed himself.” She gnawed on the inside of her lower lip, summoning the courage to continue. At least, so far, he hadn't mocked her.

“Go on,” Hook said quietly after a few moments, and she brought her head up abruptly, meeting his eyes. For the first time since she'd stepped on deck, she felt as though she truly had his undivided attention and interest. “You said you had been in jail?” he prompted.

“Uh...I won't bore you with the details or anything.” To take her mind away from the way she was revealing the parts of herself she wanted to keep hidden most, Emma pulled out one of Snow's handkerchiefs from her pocket and began swiping at the drying blood on his face. “The point is, my life was really just beginning. It took a while, but Henry found me and brought me here to meet my parents. That was everything I'd ever wanted. Okay, maybe not the part where we are the same age, and they're fairy-tale people, but still. Now I have them, and my son. If I'd given up then, I wouldn’t have any of them now. So just...Maybe someday, you'll have that.” As speeches, went, she knew it was pretty feeble. But she'd put into it everything she was able to give.

“Never thought of you as an optimist, Swan,” he said at last, but his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

Clearing her throat, Emma stuffed the handkerchief back in her pocket and said gruffly, “Now come on. I have some more questions, and I don’t want to sit here in the rain anymore. Will you come back with me to the station?”

Reflectively, hesitantly, he said, “Aye. Just this once. But first I ought to give you this.”

Slowly he reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a small handgun and handed it to her, grip first. Oddly, she didn't feel even a modicum of fear. Taking it from him, Emma made sure it was secured before wedging it into her belt.

She grasped his arm as she led him off the ship. For procedure.

 


End file.
